


normal.

by killmongersgurl



Series: redeemed!softboi [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M, Redeemed!Killmonger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 17:05:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmongersgurl/pseuds/killmongersgurl
Summary: /ˈnôrməl/ adjective. conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.





	normal.

/ _ˈnôrməl_ / adjective. conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected.

* * *

“You ever thought about gettin’ married?”

The question startled you. Although, you did have to admit that it didn’t startle you  _too_  much. Not enough to make you shuffle away from your position under his arm in order to analyze his face anyway. You were much too comfortable to do that. Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t feel the vibes he was subconsciously emitting through his body language after he asked the question. Because you absolutely could—as always.

_Calm. Peace. Serenity._

How strange.

It wasn’t strange to feel such things flowing out of Erik anymore, such harmony and tranquility from within. You knew that there just had to be an inkling—a very, very, very  _tiny_  inkling, at that—of apprehension brewing underneath that curtain of coolness, which was so strange considering what he had just asked you. But his heartbeat had neither sped up nor slowed down from what you could hear with your ear pressed against his chest as you rested on him. Not too long ago, there had been a moment in time when he would have been sweating bullets while attempting to ask you out. It was a moment in time that he always denied, but you could never deny that his initial nervousness around you was pretty endearing. And for him to be so cool about this was so…

 _Strange_.

It was so annoying how you were unable to think of another word to describe this moment.  _Weird_  was a very close contender for second place, but honestly, you were adamant in your belief that no other word would or could do this moment any justice. Nothing could persuade you to think any differently. This entire moment, it was all just so very strange—especially  _him_.

The hand cupping the swell of your ass squeezed and his fingertips dig into the ample meat, allowing the arm around your full waist to press your body even closer to his.

A soft sigh escaped you, soft and through your nostrils.

_Mmh, that felt nice._

You were probably taking too long to respond, longer than he liked. Or anticipated. That hand gripping you tight wanted to wake you up and remind you that he was still there, waiting. But you were blissfully aware of his presence. How could you not be? This man’s aura was such a force, so energetic and in-your-face yet so relaxed and calm, all at the same time. It was an energy that worked surprisingly well with your own, one that wasn’t very easy to ignore. It wasn’t your fault that you were stuck trying to figure out where all of this strangeness was coming from. It was entirely his and if he was going to make this strange, then you were allowed to take as long as you needed to respond.

Erik’s nostrils were probably flaring with embarrassment right now as he bit into his bottom lip and awaited your answer. Embarrassment didn’t come easily to him, and although you loved him, your imagination was painting such a sweet picture of this version of your boyfriend, one that pulled your full lips into a little smile. This prompted you to slide your hand underneath the thin fabric of his T-shirt, allowing you to tell the many indentations that coated his broad chest—and,  _oh,_  he felt so good.

The hand at your ass squeezed again, practically begging you to pay attention to him.

 _Mmh_.

You stopped.

Shit, that wasn’t in your head this time. No, it was… It was out loud. It was a pretty quiet sound actually, one that barely managed to slip past your lips and climb over your throat. The little sound wasn’t enough to warrant a disturbance, but it certainly was a signal. He was going to have to stop doing that if he wanted you to talk.

Or not.

You buried your face into his chest, not to hide from embarrassment, but to smell him. His scent was of such a distinct and distinguishable nature, a strange mixture of Shea butter and something spicy with an underlying hint of something from your childhood you still had trouble identifying. You took a big whiff of him, inhaling his scent before releasing a slow and heavy breath. You loved it.

“You’re asking me to marry you like this?” you finally spoke.

“Would you mind if I asked you like this?” he retorted without missing a beat.

“No.”

There was a bit of hesitation, one that manifested itself both physically and audibly. “I—uh—I’m not askin’ you, babe. I’m askin’ if you  _want_  to get married, just so if I do ask you, I won’t be embarrassed. Just in case, you know?”

“If?”

“Yeah. If.” A pause. He cleared his throat. “If.”

 _Ah_. That explained the lack of nervousness.

This discovery made you feel a bit better. It calmed your nerves and eased your brain, giving it a chance to rest from thinking so hard. It allowed you to fully enjoy resting in bed with him late at tonight, just as you had been doing before he had uttered those six words— _you ever thought about getting married?_  It allowed you to enjoy his body and how good he felt. He was a thick and bulky man, one who had been hardened and muscled by years of training and fighting. You never understood how he managed to be so soft and sturdy whenever he laid underneath you, but you weren’t looking to find out as much as you were looking to enjoy it.

Erik reached underneath his shirt and took your hand, pulling it out to hold it directly before his eyes. His thumb, as gentle and earnest as its host, spread your fingers out with soft strokes before it finally settled on its target finger.

Your heart did a little hiccup.

“Even you have to admit that this finger would look a lot better if it wasn’t naked.”

“You think that this particular finger is ugly?”

“I think that this particular finger is in desperate need of some decoration. The sentimental sort of decoration.”

The corners of your mouth twitched, itching to curve toward your eyes. You swallowed the chuckle down. “I wouldn’t mind getting married.”

"To me?”

“Yes, Erik, to  _you_.”

“Nah, I need to hear you say the whole thing.”

“I wouldn’t mind getting married to you, Erik.”

“So, you would  _like_  to? One day, I mean.”

You didn’t miss that little inflection.

“Yes,” you answered. No hesitation or little pauses.

Simply,  _yes_.

Erik released a heavy breath, one that you had not been aware he had been holding. It made his chest cave in underneath your head. His heartbeat finally switched up, a slightly unnerving mixture of both fast and slow tempos. You would have been worried had he not been a former navy seal, a former assassin, and the trusted advisor of Wakanda’s king.

“You just took a whole  _shitload_  off my shoulders, baby girl.”

That little chuckle finally escaped your mouth, slipping past your lips. You could still feel his thumb tracing the length of her fourth finger, slowly and patiently, drawing out dips and flips from your feeble stomach. It was no secret between the two of you that neither of had ever thought too much about marriage. You had never thought about marriage at all.

No. That was a—( _n_ ) unintentional—lie.

You thought about marriage once. This was only because one of your close friends watched an entire marathon of  _Say Yes to the Dress_  one Sunday afternoon after stumbling upon it, and felt compelled to drag you along with her on her quest to try wedding dresses on for fun. Marriage was such a  _weird_ —ah, the second contender made it to first place—and slightly disconcerting thought. Yet there you were giving yourself over to it, freely and completely uninhibited.

You inhaled the scent of his shirt, of him, once again. This must have been freshly washed. “You aren’t asking now.”

Erik shook his head.

“You just wanna make sure that I’m  _okay_  with being asked.”

Erik nodded.

“So now that you know that I am, when are you planning on asking me?”

“Not too sure yet. I just… I don’t wanna do it at the wrong moment. It can’t be. It has to be at the  _right_  moment. All I know is that we both need to be ready.”

“Are you ready?”

“Pretty sure.”

Your heart did another hiccup. You raised her head to look at him and you weren’t too sure if it was a trick of the night or whether it was because your bedroom was so dark or not, but you could have sworn that his brown eyes were clouded and hazy. The sight of him like this, getting all flushed in the midst of such a conversation, it was making you dizzy. Dizzy and a bit excited.

You swallowed. Hard. “R—Really?“

"Yeah.” His eyes grew wide as his brows knitted together, a face that read as slight confusion. A face that read: duh, of course. “I’ve  _been_  ready to marry you since our first date.”

There was a sharp pause, one that came from him.

“Sorry if that came out soundin’ creepy.”

You wanted to snort, but a tiny smile slid onto your face instead. You rested your ear onto his chest again; over his heart. His confession was pretty nice to hear, almost as nice as the sound of his steady heartbeat. He pulled your body flush against his own in an almost vain attempt to fuse the two of you, his hand at your ass squeezing for the third time.

A soft call of his name fell from your lips as your eyes fluttered.

Erik simply placed a lingering kiss to the top of your bonnet, a silent promise that he would make sure that you would be properly taken care of as soon as you were finished with this conversation. He dug the curve of his nose as deep into the bonnet as he could to nuzzle your scalp and took a deep breath. You immediately  _felt_  it. There was something that he was holding back, something that was attempting to push itself out and escape from the prison inside of his mouth.

He shook his head. “Are you ready?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”

“Cool,” he spoke into the bonnet. The feeling of his breath seeping through it to ghost against your scalp was a strange one, albeit not unwelcome. “Let me know when you’re ready so I can ask.”

A smile threatened to split your face in half. You didn’t want to risk speaking, because you knew that you would laugh if you opened your mouth. So you nodded.

A long silence poised itself to rest between the two of you, a sweet lull in the conversation. It was a pleasant pause, one that allowed you to seriously consider the implications and repercussions of this little talk. The curve of his nose continued to rub itself up and down the little bit of your scalp that it was able to reach as he took little sniffs, placing short kisses into your bonnet.

Pleasant.

So pleasant that you wouldn’t mind being with him like this every night for the rest of your life with a fancy ring on your left hand.

Erik inhaled, slow and deep. “Did you get a new shampoo or something?”

You could barely conceal your snort.  _This_  was what was fighting to come out? “Same shampoo, new conditioner.”

“I like it,” he declared with a nod before taking another whiff of your scent. At that, he relaxed his head onto the pillow once again.

Silence.

 _Pleasant_.

”You like diamonds?“ he asked. His voice was low and quiet, soft and almost afraid. It was a tone that rested almost directly underneath his breath as the movements of his thumb finally came to a halt. The padding of it was now resting on the middle of your finger, simply resting. "No, no, not diamonds.  _Opals_. You like  _opals_ , right? Not—Not that I'ma to get you the ring  _now_ —”

“Or that you’re asking me to marry you—”

“—I’m just tryna make sure, you know? Just in case.”

Your eyes were stuck on the sight of your hands together like this. Stuck on the image of his thumb resting on that finger during this kind of conversation.

A conversation about marriage— _your_  marriage.

You nodded.

“I like opals.”


End file.
